


Crush

by plastics



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Choking, Fanart, Hand Jobs, M/M, Reckless Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Unnegotiated Kink, unsafe kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastics/pseuds/plastics
Summary: Eddie doesn't want anything by halves.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashing-the-trashmouth (summerforbran)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerforbran/gifts).



With spring comes illness: Eddie wakes under great weight and swollen-shut eyes. The raw scratching seems to come from within himself. His very brain feels doused.

“Dude, just take some fucking Benadryl,” Richie says.

“It’s not allergies,” Eddie snaps back. “I know what allergies feel like.”

“It’s allergies, because we spend, like, seventy-five percent of our freetime below ground and covered in dirt, and moderate to severe anxiety, because of who you are as a person.”

Richie doesn’t even look up from the beanie bag as he speaks. It’s a ratty thing that barely ended up in the clubhouse over the dump, which is how everything ended up in the clubhouse. Every corner is overflowing with junk, broken and old and disgusting and _theirs._ Not that there’s even much of a _them_ left anymore, just him, Richie, and Mike—tragedy either slingshots you out of Derry or ties you down tighter. 

Eddie’s turn is coming up soon. He can feel it. Dreads it.

“I feel like I’m going to die,” he says.

“You’re not going to die, Eddie,” Richie says. “You’re going to go to your nice school, find a nice, safe, sensible job in Boston or somewhere, live into your nineties out of sheer spite, and forget all about me.”

 _“I’m_ going to forget? Oh, fuck off, Mr. Hollywood.” Eddie drops down onto Richie with an elbow to the chest, relishes sadistically in the deep _oof_ Richie lets out before shoving Eddie back onto the ground. It’s disgusting, but some frantic part of Eddie likes that, too. Dust to dust and all that. He kicks out and Richie knocks it away. He kicks harder and Richie grabs his leg, then his other leg, then climbs on top of him, fists Eddie’s hair.

“Will you knock it off?” he demands, and Eddie flings an arm out. Richie responds by slamming him down again, hands moving again to Eddie’s shoulders. “Fuck, you’re insane.”

Eddie might be. He _knows_ it’s not just allergies. The air is bad in Derry. He can feel it in his lungs. Everything is changing. Once graduation is over, Richie is gone, too. Maybe earlier. Everything is rotting. His heart is racing beneath Richie’s hand. Each breath aches. 

Subconsciously, Eddie stretches his neck. Richie notices—of course he does, he’s a local. 

His hand drifts to Eddie’s neck. “Crazy,” Richie murmurs.

But it’s Richie’s fingers that tighten without further direction. He jerks forward to kiss Eddie, a soft, soothing thing, but it doesn’t disguise the reflexive tightening. Eddie responds with teeth. A dare. Richie jerks back with another explicative, and Eddie has to wheeze for breath. He reaches for Richie’s arm and squeezes even tighter. _Fucking do it, if you’re going to._

His head gets hazy and heavy, but it’s not enough. Eddie can still see the darkness of the clubhouse and everywhere beyond it. He can feel Richie hard against his stomach, the pervert. His hands fumble clumsily as he wrestles with the elastic of Richie’s waistband. 

“Hey, be gentle. You’ve got my life in your hands,” Richie jokes, but his eyes are wide and serious. 

“Choke me,” Eddie demands, voice thin. His chest hurts. He uses his free hand to cover Richie’s and squeeze tighter.

It’s not like Eddie hasn’t changed at all since he was a kid; just the vitals parts have held steady. He hates change, the stress fractures from being tested. Eddie has lived in Derry his whole life, has hated every minute of it—but what else is there? His blood is pounding in his ears, not quite loud enough to drown out Richie’s heavy breathing.

 _Please,_ Eddie mouths. His vision swims.

“Fuck,” Richie squeaks. His hips are jerking and it’s all the same, sex and dying and living for them both. They’re so close, they’re both so fucking close—

Richie gets his then is too chickenshit to follow through. Eddie’s lungs expand automatically, and with his exhale, he demands, voice wrecked, _“Fucking kill me.”_

“You are not going to die here,” Richie promises, and Eddie growls and thrashes until Richie actually moves, because it’s not fair, none of this is fucking fair—what the fuck else is he supposed to do?


	2. Chapter 2




End file.
